


first string

by blazeofglory



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Getting Back Together, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 11:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: “You know this is a little pathetic, right?” Lando asks, peering down at Han with an arched brow.“If anything, it’simpressive,” Han counters, resolutely ignoring Lando’s eye roll. “I still have your number memorized after all this time, I gotta get points for that. My mind is avault.”





	first string

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Tiếng Việt available: [[Vietnamese translation] first string](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439153) by [higherthan_ (roccketraccoon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roccketraccoon/pseuds/higherthan_)



> Me??? Back on my Star Wars bullshit??? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> Title from "End Game" by Taylor Swift because I'm nothing if not predictable!! As always, thanks to Sina for the help and encouragement!

“You know this is a little pathetic, right?” Lando asks, peering down at Han with an arched brow. Maybe it’s the liquor or maybe it’s the neon lights on the bar behind him, but Lando looks _good_ , even better than usual, wow, Han could just _kiss_ him right now—and, okay, yes, that’s definitely the liquor talking. Han finds himself grinning from his spot on the sticky floor and he takes Lando’s hand when offered, only staggering for a second once he’s finally upright. For one long, nauseating moment, everything spins, but Lando’s hand lingers on Han’s arm, keeping him steady.

“If anything, it’s _impressive_ ,” Han counters, resolutely ignoring Lando’s eye roll. “I still have your number memorized after all this time, I gotta get points for that. My mind is a _vault._ ”

“Mhm,” Lando replies, long-suffering and just on the edge of annoyed as he steers Han through the crowd and out the door as efficiently as possible. “Maybe I _would_ be impressed, except you had to call me from a payphone because you lost _your_ phone, and I’m willing to bet you also lost your keys.”

“You got me there,” Han admits, to which Lando snorts.

They finally get outside the bar and Han immediately leans against the wall, steadying himself as the cold night air hits him. The chill is sobering, but only a _little_ —he definitely doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore, but he’s still drunk enough not to hide the way he looks at Lando. It’s been too long since they last saw each other; it had still been summer and Lando had been wearing bright yellow and holding a margarita and he’d smiled at Han from across the party, where he’d been holding court over a game of poker. They hadn’t spoken a single word that night, though their eyes kept meeting.

 _Now_ , Lando is decked out in his winter best, faux fur and all. Han remembers all too well how warm that jacket is when draped around his own shoulders. Even the scarf around Lando’s neck is familiar, light blue and soft, too expensive for Han to ever consider buying… He smiles, big and bright, at Lando, who was beginning to look a little concerned about the spacey look in Han’s eye.

“What’s that face for?” Lando asks, wary as ever.

Han shakes his head, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to Lando, reaching out with cold fingers to touch the delicate fabric of Lando’s scarf. Lando looks down at Han’s hand, at the scarf, and then back away, frowning.

“You still wear it,” Han says, quiet, almost drowned out by the sounds filtering out from the bar. “I stole this for you _years_ ago, I thought you would’ve gotten yourself a newer one by now… A replacement.”

Lando reaches up, grabbing Han’s hand gently and pulling him away from the scarf. He takes a step back, gazing out over the parking lot, as if looking for something.

“It’s a nice scarf,” Lando finally says, still not looking at Han. “It’d be a shame to get rid of something so nice.”

“You would miss it if it was gone, huh?” Han asks, heart on his sleeve, throwing caution to the wind. _The scarf is me, get it? Don’t you miss me?_ he thinks loudly, but Lando says nothing.

Lando looks at him again, assessing, and then he pulls out his phone, completely ignoring Han as he starts texting. Han huffs and reaches into his own pocket, except—oh, _right_ , he lost his phone, that’s why he’s in this situation to begin with. He almost wishes that he had Chewie’s number memorized, because at least his best friend wouldn’t judge him quite so harshly, but he can’t quite regret calling Lando… His judginess aside, it really has been too long, and Lando is _so_ nice to look at, even when he’s glaring at his cellphone.

If Han could resist Lando, they never would’ve dated in the first place, and Han definitely hasn’t learned restraint in the time since then. Without thinking, full of liquid courage, he moves closer again, until he’s leaning heavily against Lando’s side. Pressed up close as they are, he hears Lando sigh dramatically, but Lando doesn’t move away.

“The Lyft will be here in a few minutes,” Lando says, pocketing his phone and draping an arm across Han’s shoulders like it’s no big deal. “Did you lose your jacket too?”

“I didn’t bring one,” Han grumbles, muffled against Lando’s shoulder. _God_ , he smells good. It’s been ages since Han’s sheets smelled like Lando, he forgot how much he missed it. “In my defense, I didn’t plan to stand around outside tonight.”

“You’re not much of a planner.”

“I manage just fine.”

“Is this you managing?” Lando counters, amusement in his voice. “Calling your ex to come get you at 2am is _managing_?”

“You didn’t have to come,” Han points out, nuzzling closer, his nose touching the soft, _soft_ scarf. “But you _did_ come and you’re wearing this scarf, so… Glass houses, baby.”

Lando sighs again and rubs Han’s arm when Han shivers. Han’s not _that_ cold, warmed by alcohol and Lando’s body heat—he just wanted to see what Lando would do. Han smiles.

The Lyft shows up and they get in, and even though the car is plenty warm, Han still presses close to Lando’s side and Lando still lets him; Han is just drunk enough to not question it. It occurs to him, suddenly, that Chewie is going to laugh so fucking hard at him tomorrow, and without meaning to, Han groans out loud.

“If you throw up on this coat, you’re dead to me.”

“I’m not gonna throw up,” Han mumbles, getting a mouthful of scarf before he shifts so he can talk more easily. “It’s just—Chewie is gonna laugh at me.”

“I think he’s used to you making a fool of yourself by now,” Lando says, and Han can’t help but laugh.

“ _Yeah_ , but it’s so much worse this time because—” Han cuts himself off abruptly, realizing what he was about to say. He’s praying that Lando will just let it drop, but of _course_ he doesn’t.

“Because you called me?” Lando prompts, voice _way_ too smug. Han hates that he’s right.

Han must’ve had a lot more to drink than even he realizes, because he opens his mouth and says, “He’s convinced that I’m still in love with you.”

The car is deathly silent for a moment—even the driver seems to be holding his breath, which… yikes, Han forgot that they aren’t even alone right now, and now he’s contemplating smothering himself in Lando’s coat.

Then Lando chuckles, quiet but definitely there; Han can feel it more than hear it. He really, _really_ hopes that Lando thinks he was kidding, because this is not a conversation that they should be having at _all_ , let alone in a Lyft in the middle of the night, months after they broke up.

“Chewie’s usually so smart,” Lando says, still chuckling quietly. “But he’s definitely off the mark this time.”

Han waits just a heartbeat too long before forcing himself to say, “Yeah.”

He’s sure than Lando has more to say on the matter, but the Lyft finally stops, and Han is out the door as fast as possible. He takes a step forward, towards the apartment building, but—he turns back to Lando, frowning. “This isn’t my apartment.”

“You lost your keys,” Lando points out, breezing past Han to swipe into the building and lead the way into the elevator.

Han considers pointing out that Chewie is probably home and could unlock the front door for him, but the prospect of being in Lando’s apartment again is way too good to pass up. Unbidden, his mind jumps back to the last time they were in this elevator—last spring, when Lando had worn pale pink most days of the week and Han couldn’t take his eyes off of him—they’d kissed in this elevator, after a night out. Lando had tasted like champagne and Han had leaned against the wall, accidentally pressing the buttons for every floor, and they’d laughed and kissed as the elevator slowly made its way up, stopping every few seconds.

“Do you remember—?”

“Yes,” Lando says, cutting Han a sideways glance.

When they reach the sixteenth floor, Lando strides down the hall, not bothering to check if Han is following. Han only stumbles once as he follows, and by the time he makes it to Lando’s door, he’s already unlocked it, holding it open for Han to walk in.

“Ever the gentleman,” Han teases as he steps inside, kicking his shoes off out of habit. He glances around, a smile spreading across his face as he realizes that nothing at all has changed. Damn, Han loves this ridiculous, bougie apartment.

“Don’t make a mess,” Lando warns as Han walks down the hall to the bathroom, flipping Lando off as he goes. He can still hear Lando laughing as he closes the door.

Again, Han reaches for his phone, cursing under his breath when he remembers that it’s lost. This would be a really, _really_ great time to text Chewie and be reminded that Han absolutely _cannot_ get back together with Lando, because Han is having trouble remembering why. They broke up after a job gone wrong, when tensions were high and neither of them came away with any money, and they’d just been _angry_ , and they could’ve gotten past it and stayed together, but they knew it would just happen again and it would be easier to just stop dating and stop working together and—none of those reasons sound very convincing to Han right now.

Han pees, washes his hands, splashes cold water on his face, and tries to tame his hair. Getting back together with Lando is a _great_ idea. They don’t have to work together again; Han has Chewie for that and Lando seems to be doing just fine with his poker schemes. The only thing keeping them apart is sheer stubbornness.

“You were in there a while,” Lando comments, sprawled out on his leather couch with a glass of wine in hand, looking smug and _handsome_ , even hotter out of his coat, and still wearing that scarf. Han eyes him appreciatively as he sits down and Lando pours him a glass of wine.

“I tried to fix my hair,” Han explains, and judging by the look on Lando’s face, his hair is just as much of a mess as it was before. Han shrugs. “It has a mind of its own.”

“I recall,” Lando says as he passes Han the wine glass.

Han takes a long drink because he’s never one to turn down good wine and Lando _always_ has the good kind, but then he sets it on the coffee table and he turns toward Lando, who’s watching him like a hawk.

“Is this the part where we have sex and then awkwardly part ways in the morning?” Lando asks, raising a brow and taking a drink, the perfect picture of nonchalance. Han knows him better than that, though; he learned Lando’s tells long before they even started dating. Lando’s adjusted the knot of his scarf twice since Han sat down—he’s nervous.

Well, fuck, Han’s nervous too. He smiles at Lando, as charming as possible, and says, “Not quite.”

“No?”

Han shifts closer on the couch, then boldly plucks Lando’s wine glass out of his hand and sets it next to his own on the coffee table.

“We’re not going to have sex,” Han says, even as he gracefully climbs into Lando’s lap, straddling his thighs and bracing his hands on Lando’s shoulders. Lando puts his hands on Han’s hips, just like he always used to, and his smirk is even more attractive up close.

“If we’re not going to have sex, what are you doing?”

“Look, we already established that I’m not great at planning things out,” Han says, and he’s rewarded with another laugh. “I would _love_ to have sex, but you never want to when I’m this drunk, so I’m not gonna push it.”

Lando’s hands are warm on Han’s hips, inching under the hem of his shirt, and he says, “You’re right about that.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Why are you in my lap, Han?”

“Okay, so,” Han hesitates for a second, touching the scarf again. Lando had smiled so bright when Han gave it to him... “I think we should get back together, and before you tell me that’s a bad idea, consider this: it’s a _great_ idea.”

“You’re drunk,” Lando says, the smile slipping off his face.

“I miss you,” Han counters. “And I _know_ you miss me, don’t even try to lie.”

“Yeah, glass houses,” Lando replies, caressing Han’s skin gently. “Ask me again in the morning. When you’re _sober_.”

Han huffs a sigh, but that’s fair and honestly about what he expected, so he nods and makes to climb off of Lando, but Lando’s hands tighten on his hips.

“Just _one_ kiss and then we go to bed. _Separate_ beds.”

“Absolutely,” Han agrees readily, heart jumping in his chest, feeling more intoxicated than he has all night, high off of this victory—he cups Lando’s face and they kiss. Lando tastes like red wine and his lips are soft and it feels so fucking _good_ , just like Han remembers but _better_ ; he presses closer and Lando bites Han’s bottom lip and he _moans_ , and—Lando breaks the kiss, a smug smile on his face.

“You can have the guest room,” Lando says, moving his hands out from under Han’s shirt. “Now get off of me and go to bed.”

Han awkwardly clambers off Lando’s lap, regretting the last few shots he did at the bar—if he was just a _little_ more sober, they could be fucking right now. Lando’s hands would be all over him and Han wouldn’t have to think about a thing because Lando knows _exactly_ what Han likes and he would give it to him so good, and— _damn it._

Lando offers Han his hand again, just like at the bar, though Han isn’t dizzy when he stands up this time.

“One more kiss,” Han whispers, because they’re standing so _close_ and Lando is definitely looking at his mouth. He leans in, eyes fluttering shut—but Lando takes a step back.

“In the morning,” Lando repeats, though he’s still smiling. Han has _really_ missed that smile.

“In the morning,” Han agrees as they walk down the hall towards the bedrooms. Before they part ways, he reaches out and grabs Lando’s hand, squeezing once before letting go. “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

“I bet you will, baby,” Lando says with an easy smile, and then he’s stepping away and closing his bedroom door, leaving Han to stare after him.

 

 

 

When Han opens his eyes the next day, he half-expects a hangover, but he actually feels mostly fine. He remembers _everything_ from the night before—drinking _way_ too much, playing poker against the wrong people, misplacing his phone, calling Lando on the shitty payphone, and then… oh God, he remembers telling Lando that he wants to get back together.

It’s still _true_ , of course it is, but now that Han’s sober, he’s not so sure how Lando feels about all this—was he just being polite last night? Holding off on rejecting Han until the morning? Maybe Lando hadn’t wanted to kiss him at all, maybe Lando just wanted Han to leave? _Fuck_.

Han opens the door and sticks his head out, peering down the hallway. Lando’s bedroom door is still closed, probably still asleep—Han actually has no ideas what time it is; it could very well be 6am or well after noon—and he goes into the bathroom. Even though he was in here the night before, he isn’t exactly the most observant while drunk, and that must’ve been why he didn’t notice.

On the counter, there’s a toothbrush holder. The same one that Han has seen in this bathroom since the very first time he came in here, at some party that Chewie had brought him to, long before he even really knew Lando. He’s very familiar with this toothbrush holder and Lando’s green toothbrush that lives in it.

Han is also very, _very_ familiar with the purple toothbrush right beside the green one. There’s no way that Lando kept Han’s toothbrush after all this time… right? He picks it up, too curious to resist, and inspects it with the scrutiny of a detective with a potential murder weapon. It’s a different brand than the one Lando buys, so it’s definitely not his back-up toothbrush, it’s not even slightly damp, so it hasn’t been recently used, and… the bristles are kinda fucked up, the way that Han always fucks his bristles up because, as his dentist loves to say, he brushes his teeth too aggressively. This is _his_ toothbrush, sitting in Lando’s bathroom, innocuous as ever.

Well… maybe drunk Han was right and Lando _does_ actually miss him. Why else would he keep this? Han frowns at the toothbrush for another second, then decides to actually brush his teeth while considering his options here. He can tell Lando that he doesn’t remember anything, therefore avoiding as much awkwardness as possible. He can leave now and just walk home, sparing himself that uncomfortable conversation altogether. Or… he can tell Lando that he meant it, every word, and he wants to make this work. _Fuck_ , Han really wants to make this work.

Even though Han has been managing just fine without Lando, now that he’s within Han’s grasp again, he can’t risk letting go. He’s _missed_ him, that’s impossible to deny now. Han hops in the shower, not even second guessing using Lando’s expensive organic body wash and shampoo, as he thinks about it. He’s missed waking Lando up in the morning, fresh from the shower and kissing his lover awake. He’s missed bickering over breakfast, flirting over lunch, and sharing stories over dinner. It’s been _months_ , the better part of a year, actually, and Han isn’t over it—he kept thinking that, eventually, he would get over it, but he _hasn’t_. Maybe he never can, maybe Chewie is right—fuck, he’s never going to live this down.

By the time Han steps out of the shower and dries himself off with Lando’s towel instead of bothering to get one out of the linen closet, he’s come to the same conclusion that he did the night before: getting back together is the best idea that Han has ever had.

Without bothering to put his dirty clothes back on, Han wraps Lando’s towel around his waist and steps out of the bathroom, not hesitating in front of Lando’s bedroom door before he pushes it open. He expects Lando to still be asleep, but he’s not—he’s still laying in bed, but he’s reading something on his phone, and he looks up in surprise when Han walks in.

“You’re up early,” Lando comments, voice carefully neutral. Han can tell that Lando’s playing it cool, unsure if Han even remembers everything he said and did the night before. Han grins in response, then drops his towel and promptly climbs into bed.

“Your bed is much comfier,” Han says simply, sliding under the covers next to Lando and moving in close. He lays on his side, propping his head up on his arm and smiling at Lando. “You told me to wait ‘til morning and it’s morning.”

“That I did and that it is,” Lando agrees, a smile spreading across his face as he turns toward Han, reaching out to put a hand on his bare waist. “You really want to get back together?”

“At the risk of inflating your ego…” Lando gives him an impatient look and Han grins. “I miss you.”

“No ulterior motives?” Lando asks, a wary look in his eye.

“None,” Han answers, and then Lando is suddenly kissing him.

When Lando pulls back, Han is breathless and they’re both smiling, and Lando says, “I miss you too.”

Han shifts closer, climbing on top of Lando and pressing him into the mattress, heedless of his hair falling into his eyes. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this view—Lando under him, in sleep-rumpled pajamas, _smiling_ , with naked affection in his eyes. He’s the most beautiful thing Han’s ever seen. Before they kiss again, he has to ask, “And you definitely want to get back together?”

“Definitely,” Lando answers immediately, then pulls Han back down to kiss him hard.  

Han melts into it, losing himself in kissing Lando—he savors the beard burn and Lando’s bites and the way that Lando licks into his mouth, conquering and _sweet_. Without meaning to, Han makes a soft noise, and he feels Lando smile against his mouth.

“Easy, baby,” Lando murmurs, then kisses Han gentler, running his warm hands soothingly over Han’s back. Suddenly, he grips Han by the waist and flips them both over, looming over Han with a devilish grin. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

“I don’t need taken care of,” Han protests immediately, more out of reflex than anything else. Lando just rolls his eyes.

“Maybe you don’t need it,” Lando indulges, leaning down to press a hot kiss to the side of Han’s neck as his hands gently push Han’s hair back. “But you want it, don’t you?”

Instead of answering, Han fumbles with the buttons of Lando’s pajama shirt; he’s giving himself away in his haste and they both know it—Lando knows Han’s tells as well as Han knows his, so Lando must _know_ that Han wants this bad, that Han is so fucking eager for it, that Han has missed this more than _anything_.

Lando shrugs the shirt off his shoulders, sitting up for a second and peering down at Han. Idly, his hands trace down Han’s chest, light and teasing, and they stop right at his hips.

“If you want me to beg for it, you’re gonna have to keep waiting.”

“I could make you beg if I wanted to,” Lando replies easily, and Han knows all too well just how true that is. He’s begged for Lando before, in this very bed, in his own bed, in their cars, in a few bathrooms—Lando knows just how to get Han to the edge, rile him up, and make him wait. Judging by the smirk on Lando’s face, he’s thinking the same thing. “But I won’t tonight, we’ve waited too long already.”

Han grabs Lando’s hips, but Lando refuses to grind down against him, and Han huffs a sigh.

“Don’t sigh at me,” Lando scolds. “I’ll give you what you want… just as soon as you _tell me_ what you want.”

“You _know_ what I want.”

“Maybe I don’t.” Lando leans down again, breath hot on Han’s neck, and whispers in his ear, “I don’t know who you’ve been with since me, baby, maybe you want something different now.”

Han _shivers_ , grasping at Lando’s shoulders while Lando kisses his neck, biting _hard_. He should’ve known that Lando would play dirty, yet it surprises him anyway, and _God_ , he forgot how much he loves it.

“I’ve only been with a few people since you,” Han says honestly, biting back a moan when Lando sucks hard at a spot just below his jaw. “None of them fucked me, and I—I want you to.”

As a reward, Lando grinds down against Han’s hard cock—Han feels the unmistakable press of Lando’s erection against his own, and he grins. It’s nice to know that Lando is getting as into this as Han is; it can be difficult to tell when he’s always so _composed_. Han wants to reach between them and feel Lando’s cock for himself, get his hand wrapped around it and feel the dripping precum, maybe take it into his mouth because he’s missed _that_ too, no matter how many other cocks he’s sucked since; but Lando’s in charge right now, and Han doesn’t dare misbehave.

“You’re right,” Lando says quietly, voice heated, as he pulls back just a little, holding direct eye contact. Han almost wants to shiver again under the force of that stare, but instead, he just raises a brow in question, and Lando explains, “I _did_ know what you want.”

Han arches up against Lando, eager for more contact, running his hands over Lando’s back and shoulders, then resting on Lando’s hips, still clothed in soft flannel pants. “Why are we still talking about it instead of doing it?”

“Talking is the most important part of foreplay,” Lando says, and that’s an argument that they’ve had a _thousand_ times. Han doesn’t have to ask again, though, before Lando is shifting down the bed and Han is shamelessly spreading his legs. A thought occurs to him—Han reaches up under the pillow next to his own, and— _yup_ , he finds a bottle of lube and a condom, which he tosses down to Lando.

“Were you expecting this?”

Lando wraps a hand around Han’s cock, _good_ but not enough, and he smiles that damn smile that’s gotten them both into a lot of trouble over the years. He shrugs, caressing Han’s inner thighs gently, raising goosebumps in his wake. Coy as ever, he says, “I like to be prepared.”

There’s definitely a clever retort on the tip of Han’s tongue, but it’s lost to a low moan as Lando takes Han into his mouth, licking and sucking with more finesse than anyone else that Han’s ever been with. His fingers grasp at the sheets and he carefully keeps himself from bucking his hips up, no matter how desperate he is to fuck up into that soft, _wet_ mouth. Han knows just how Lando likes this to go—Han doesn’t get to move his hips or fuck with Lando’s hair, and in return for being good, Lando will finger him.

“You—you’re so fucking good at that,” Han says, breathless already, and Lando’s eyes flash up to meet his, dark with approval and arousal. _Yeah_ , Han may not think that talking is the most important part of foreplay, but he sure knows what Lando wants. He’s gonna give Lando _everything_ he wants. “No one does it as well as you, baby.”

Han keeps talking, spouting praises and curses, losing himself in the pleasure of Lando’s _perfect_ mouth, and then, _finally_ , he feels a slick finger pressing slowly inside him and he groans loudly, relishing the slight burn and the feeling of being filled after so _long_. It’s not long before Lando adds a second finger, fucking into Han _just right_ , making Han moan louder than before—he’s so _close_ , Lando’s mouth on his cock and his fingers in him feel so _good_ —but Lando pulls off, a smug look on his face.

“You can’t come yet,” Lando says, idly wiping his mouth with the back of one hand while steadily fucking Han with the other.

“Hurry up and fuck me,” Han responds, grinding his hips in time with Lando’s thrusts. Lando doesn’t slow his fingers, but he doesn’t speed them up either, and he doesn’t reach for the condom; instead, he kisses Han, deep and _filthy_.

While they kiss, Lando adds a third finger and Han squirms on the bed, shameless and eager. Lando shifts, straddling Han’s thigh and grinding his cock against it, hot and hard even through his pajamas, making muffled noises into Han’s mouth. When they part, they’re both breathing hard.

“Lando…”

“Baby,” Lando says softly, and then he abruptly moves away, removing his fingers and standing up. He looks at Han expectantly. “You better get your own fingers in you before your ass tightens up and we have to start all over.”

Han flushes, a little embarrassed but really, _really_ into it, and he fumbles with the lube immediately, then sinks three fingers inside himself with a muffled groan. He hadn’t meant to close his eyes, but when he opens them, Lando has finally taken off his pants and underwear and joined him on the bed again, his hungry eyes tracing over Han’s body and lingering on his hard cock.

“I think I changed my mind,” Lando says conversationally, stroking Han’s cock with just one fingertip. “I _do_ want you to beg.”

Lando presses all along Han’s side once more, his lips on Han’s neck and his hard cock pressed against Han’s thigh, as he continues to tease Han’s cock.

“After all these months, I still gotta beg for you to fuck me?”

Lando chuckles quietly, low in Han’s ear. “What can I say? I missed the way it sounds.”

“You’re an asshole,” Han grumbles, but there’s no heat behind it. When Lando just hums in agreement, Han lets out a deep breath, and says, hushed, “ _Please_.”

“Hmm,” Lando considers, reaching behind himself—probably for the condom, _yes_ , Han is so fucking ready— “Ask nicer than that, baby.”

Han groans, frustrated and so hard he could _die_. He wants to finger himself properly, but Lando didn’t tell him he could, so his fingers are really just holding himself open for Lando, like he’s nothing but a hole for Lando to _fuck_ —panting, desperate, and flushed bright red, Han _begs_ , “ _Please_ , fuck me, I need it so bad, I—I’m _sorry_.”

Suddenly, Lando is kissing Han, gentle and slow, and then he whispers, “You don’t have to apologize for what happened between us, okay? It’s all better now.”

Han keeps his eyes closed, too embarrassed and overwhelmed to look at Lando right now, but he hears Lando finally opening the condom. He bends his knees up to his chest, _ready_ , but Lando hesitates, and Han opens his eyes again, squinting in the morning sunlight filtering in through the gauzy curtains.

“Han,” Lando says softly as he lines himself up, slowly pushing inside, eliciting a quiet gasp from Han. “You’re a good boy.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Han moans, and Lando slides the rest of the way inside him, familiar and perfect and, _God_ , Han always forgets how big Lando’s cock is until it’s inside him. He squirms a little, adjusting to the feeling, and when he moans, Lando takes that at his cue to start fucking Han in earnest.

Han holds onto Lando’s shoulders while Lando fucks him hard, giving Han everything he fucking _needs_ , everything he’s been missing—not a day has gone by in the past few months that Han hasn’t thought about this, and he’s not even sure he deserves it anymore, not after he let things fall apart last time, but he _loves_ it. Lando is so good to him, so much better than he deserves, but Lando thinks Han is _good_ , and that’s more than enough for Han.

It’s not long before Han is close again, and he must have some tell that Lando knows, because Lando wraps his hand around Han’s cock, not breaking his rhythm, and starts to jerk him off hard and fast. Han comes with a loud moan, clenching down hard around Lando, and everything goes blissfully white for a second.

When Han opens his eyes again, Lando is staring down at the mess of come on his hand, and their eyes lock as Lando lifts that hand to his own mouth, slowly licking each finger clean. Han groans at the sight, cock twitching despite literally _just_ coming, and Lando smirks.

“Am I gonna have to beg you to keep fucking me?” Han asks, sated and already sleepy, a lazy smile on his face.

Lando laughs, then answers by getting back to fucking Han, hard and fast, chasing his own orgasm. Determined to make it a good one, Han pushes back into each thrust, squeezing around Lando’s cock, making him moan each time, and Lando comes quick, fingers digging into Han’s hips as he breathes hard.

Eventually, Lando pulls out, making Han wince a little, and he throws the condom out in the trashcan next to the bed. Han hesitates for a second, realizes that he’s being ridiculous, and then plasters himself to Lando’s side, determined to catch up on all the cuddles that he’s been missing. Lando makes a soft sound, always quiet after a good orgasm, and wraps his arms around Han, holding him close.

“You kept my toothbrush,” Han says after a while.

Lando laughs quietly, gently carding his fingers through Han’s hair, and says, “I knew you’d come back for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you guys liked this!! I have some more Hando ideas and I'll definitely be more motivated to write them if I know that people actually wanna read it!


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